What kind of kink was this?

"An assistant who can satisfy you at any time."

Anyone who heard those words would instinctively fill in the blanks with their imagination.

Hugo Strange's fingers twitched slightly at his side.

His thirty-six years of life were like a meticulously designed skyscraper, every steel beam and pane of glass fixed in precisely the right place.

His stability was the foundation that had earned him his position as Arkham's chief physician.

But now, those words flooded in like a rising tide, loosening a brick in some inconspicuous corner of that skyscraper.

She was the Tomie Organization's experimental specimen No. 16, supposedly no different from the other Test Subjects.

Yet he could never stop himself from watching her on the monitor.

The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept, the water dripping from the ends of her freshly washed hair, her moist lips after finishing her soup...

Like a man possessed, he spied on her with an insatiable hunger.

And now she was sitting brazenly in his chair, saying things that crossed the line.

He should refuse her outright and send her back to her Isolation Ward.

Hugo Strange studied Ririko for a long time.

Then he raised his hands and slowly removed his white coat, revealing a well-tailored brown plaid three-piece suit.

He took off his suit jacket next, then slowly rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

Ririko leaned a little farther across the desk, watching as he turned his back to her and took something out of a drawer.

Was he... getting some kind of prop?

Although she had been the one to seduce him, Ririko had only wanted him to agree to keep her by his side until his infatuation value was high enough for her to secure a meeting with Thomas Wayne.

As for the consequences... she hadn't thought that far ahead.

She only hoped this perverted old man who liked experimenting on people could be normal in that department.

He walked slowly over to her, a silver syringe now in his hand.

Ririko's right eye went wide. What kind of kink was this?

"Say what you just said again."

His voice was hoarse.

Ririko drew her slender body back into the leather chair.

"I... I only meant... I wanted to contribute something. I can't just live here and eat for free, can I?"

Her gaze moved from the syringe to Hugo's face, but she couldn't read his eyes behind the brown-tinted lenses.

He took a step closer and reached toward her hair, gently lifting the long strands.

Ririko could feel the faint tug of every strand as it slipped through his fingers.

"This black hair... it always distracts me."

Hugo's voice reached her ear, carrying a trace of heated restlessness.

Ririko froze in the chair, her gaze locked on the syringe in his hand.

After his fingers slipped from the ends of her hair, they traveled down the skin along the side of her neck.

His touch was very light. If not for that syringe, she probably wouldn't have resisted the caress.

His breathing grew heavier.

"You should be under my control."

Ririko's breath caught, her mind racing.

Did he know she'd read that newspaper? Did he also know about her plan to meet Thomas Wayne?

Her lips parted slightly. She wanted to explain that she'd only wanted to read the newspaper to pass the time, that she hadn't intended to-

Hugo raised the syringe and plunged it into his own left arm.

He withdrew the needle and placed the syringe on the desk with a faint clink.

His baffling actions left Ririko dumbfounded.

Did this old man have a thing for sticking needles into himself, too?

Hugo's breathing steadied.

It turned out to be a sedative.

His heart rate and blood pressure dropped rapidly, forcibly shutting down the areas of his brain that shouldn't have been active.

He gripped her arm with one hand and pulled her out of the chair.

"I'll arrange for you to stay in the Female Isolation Ward."

His voice was low as he briskly put his white coat back on, speaking in a professional tone.

She looked at his left arm. The spot where he'd just injected himself was now completely concealed beneath his white coat.

Her gaze slid discreetly over the system panel.

[Core character: Hugo Strange]

[Current infatuation value: 35/100]

It had increased by five points.

This guy was ruthless.

It wasn't that he hadn't felt anything. He would simply rather jab himself with a needle than let his emotions get out of control.

Every nerve in this old man's body seemed reinforced with steel and concrete.

Someone like him was hard to deal with... a strategic retreat was the only option.

Ririko lowered her head. "All right. I'll do as you say."

A middle-aged female officer named Herman escorted Ririko to another Isolation Ward.

It wasn't far from Hugo's laboratory.

She entered her new room and found it no different from the previous one.

"Can I get the things from my old room? There's conditioner, a comb, and a jar of face cream. Doctor Quinn had them sent to me."

She asked Herman.

"Professor Strange gave no instructions about that," the woman replied coldly.

"That isn't right. Those are my personal belongings." Ririko wasn't willing to lose the few little comforts she had in Arkham.

"I'm the head guard of the women's detention ward," Herman said, stepping forward. "I decide whether those are your personal belongings."

With that, she slammed the iron door shut.

Ririko sat down on the edge of the bed, fuming.

After all that trouble, she hadn't gained a thing. Instead, she'd ended up right back at square one overnight.

I should've been more forward and made Hugo mine. Who cares if he's a psychopath? I just have to be more twisted than he is.

She was only venting.

She knew Hugo wasn't someone she could win over just by being "more forward."

Her gaze swept quickly around the room, then stopped.

A mirror was set into the wall.

She hurried over to it. This was the first time she'd seen herself since her injury.

Gauze covered her left eye. The edges of the bandage had already loosened a little, with a few threads sticking up like the withered petals of a white flower.

Even knowing she was only an NPC, she still loved her looks.

They were her means of surviving in this city of sin.

Now that she could truly see she'd lost an eye, she still felt an indescribable sadness.

She stared at her reflection, her right eye reddening slightly.

She wasn't crying for her left eye.

She was wondering why fate was so unfair. She'd once lived in fear on Gotham's streets, and now some madman in Arkham was treating her as an experimental specimen...

No one cared about her. No one offered even the slightest sympathy for what she'd suffered.

She turned on the faucet and washed her face with icy water.

She raised her head and looked at her reflection again.

Wait.

Ririko stepped closer to the mirror.

Her skin had changed.

She knew her skin had never been this good.

Her pores had shrunk until they were almost invisible, and her skin was exquisitely smooth. Light fell on her cheekbones, giving them an enchanting, pearly sheen.

She turned her face slightly. There was no unevenness in her complexion, not a single blemish.

The jar of face cream Harley had given her couldn't have done this.

No wonder that fat bastard had drooled at the sight of her.

Was this a change brought about by the Tomie Organization?

Ririko smiled at herself in the mirror.

She had become more beautiful. Her whole being seemed to glow.

She couldn't imagine how devastating this face would have been if nothing had happened to her left eye.

She brushed her hair, sweeping her bangs over her left eye.

It only made her look more mysterious.

No problem. Looking like this, all she needed was a little dressing up, and Thomas Wayne would definitely notice her in a crowd.

"Ha, hahaha..."

Facing the mirror, she unconsciously let out a string of eerie laughter.